


Todo Lo Que Se Pierde No Se Desaparce (All That Is Lost Does Not Disappear)

by emberloey



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Kind of slowburn?, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emberloey/pseuds/emberloey
Summary: “Missing,” they told him in April. “Dead,” in September. October is filled with ghosts—with pain, and longing, and wisps of what they once had just out of reach.Baekhyun isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to react when his ghost calls him, and he hears his voice for the first time in years.





	1. Seoul, South Korea

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna kind of be a work in progress. the first couple sections will be uploaded fairly quickly, the rest just as i write it (usually i upload all at once no matter the length). most of this will probably be written in a class of some sort bc i can't manage to pay attention for shit.
> 
> i talked about this prompt on twitter sort of?? anyway i hope it's not shit xx thanks bbs
> 
> idk how long it'll be yet, and the chapters will be shorter than the one shots i usually write, so be warned. this also might take me a while to finish??

It’s all been the same since he left.

Every day has been the same. Baekhyun gets up and goes to work, asks questions no one seems to know the answers to, and comes home alone to an empty house that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.

Chanyeol would be proud of him, he figures. He takes care of himself. He still works out. He eats well—their once bi-weekly cooking lessons are coming in handy, he hasn’t had anything microwaveable in years (well, excluding leftovers. He’s still more accustomed to cooking for two than for one). He’s kept the house clean, and he still goes out with their friends. He keeps in contact with Chanyeol’s family. They haven’t lost touch, even after all this time—they need each other.

It’s been four years since Chanyeol disappeared.

The station has done nothing. The station has done _ less _ than nothing. Things were all routine, at first—he was supposed to be gone for two months, and then he’d be back, and he and Baekhyun would be married.

Two months stretched into three, into four and five and six, and it was halfway through month eight that Baekhyun was pulled into their supervisor’s office and told that Chanyeol was missing in action. Gone. Vanished off the face of the earth.

The small apartment he’d been staying in had been searched. Nothing looked out of the ordinary—no signs of any sort of struggle. He could’ve willingly left—

_ “No.” _ Baekhyun had interrupted then, speaking up for the first time since he’d been in the supervisor’s office. His cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes glassy, but his voice was unwavering. Jongdae’s hand never left his shoulder. _ “No, he wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t _ not _ call me if he could. Something’s wrong_— _ you have to find him. You _ have _ to!” _

Yet a year had come and gone, and no one had heard anything. Another year, and the department stopped dispatching men to find him. His case was closed. File sealed. Two more years and now Park Chanyeol’s name is little more than just that—a name. He’s but one of many who’d gone missing in the field.

Baekhyun had been told to stop looking, what with how his skills would be put to better use elsewhere—on his _ official _ assignments. He hasn’t been able to, though. Not when he sees Chanyeol everywhere.

He sees Chanyeol whenever he passes the local tattoo parlor. He sees him in every dog that passes. He feels him in the warmth of the sun, hears his laugh in each rumble of thunder of the annual rainy season.

Baekhyun sees him in their home, in the color scheme of the living room and the organization of the kitchen. He sees him in the too-big shoes in the cabinet, in the hoodies folded in the closet. He smells him in his old favorite cologne Baekhyun sprays into the air every once in a while, so he doesn’t forget. He feels him in bed at night, when he hugs his lost fiancé’s pillow, because even after so many years the bed is still so empty, and cold and lonely.

Sometimes Baekhyun thinks he’s there. He dreams of Chanyeol at night, and when he wakes up the next morning he thinks he can hear his deep humming over the sound of the coffee pot. On laundry days he still listens for the sound of Chanyeol cursing from their bedroom, wrestling with remaking the bed, and they remain pricked for the sound of his fiancé tripping over the various piles of clothes on the floor and hitting the wall with a heavy _ thud _ and a soft “ow.”

Baekhyun thought about getting a dog He thought about it for months, and talked to Mrs. Park, Jongdae, and even his own mom about it. The therapist he’d been seeing had even gone so far as to recommend it for his “recovery,” from what he wasn’t quite sure. _ He _ wasn’t the one who had disappeared. 

He and Chanyeol had talked about it, since kids still seemed too...much of a commitment at the time. Perhaps one day, but not yet. They’d visited a few shelters, done research, made a decision on a breed. He visited the same shelter a few times, even found a dog he was fond of, but in the end he had backed out. The memory of Chanyeol’s overwhelming excitement was still too painfully fresh in his mind, and so he continues to live alone.

He’s not entirely alone. They—_he_—has amazing friends who continue to check in regularly. They did it more when it first happened, but Baekhyun’s grateful for the company nonetheless, sticking with him though he tried to push them away—lonely and sad and lost. Jongdae and Kyungsoo, stubborn as they are endearing, remain as close with him as ever. They were the first ones Baekhyun had cried in front of.

Kyungsoo had been cleaning the kitchen after Baekhyun’s first _ real _ meal in nearly a month and had put something away incorrectly, ruining Chanyeol’s meticulously planned out organization and Baekhyun _ broke. _ He spent a solid two minutes yelling at him before falling to the floor, sobbing and hugging the metal spatula to his chest as though it would fix the empty hole in his chest. The two sets of arms that wrapped around him in an attempt at comfort did nothing—they weren’t _ Chanyeol’s _ arms. 

They served to do nothing but leave him feeling lonelier than he’d been when Chanyeol had first left, with warm hugs and gentle kisses and promises to be back in 57 days.

After a few months they asked if he was okay, if he’d thought about moving on. Getting back out there. Finding someone else. It’s more likely that Chanyeol’s dead than anything else, what did he have to lose?

To his credit, he tried. It took him two years, but he did. Baekhyun took off his engagement ring for the first time in years, put both his and Chanyeol’s in his jewelry box, and tried. He never went home with the guy, though, he _ couldn’t_—he wasn’t Chanyeol.

He was _ wrong. _

And then Baekhyun spiraled, trashed that the last person he’s kissed wasn’t Chanyeol.

How _ could _ he?

How could he tarnish Chanyeol, and what they had together, just like that? The action of kissing someone was almost disgustingly easy. Baekhyun was _ horrified _ with himself, and Jongdae and Kyungsoo had come by and stayed for _ days _ to keep Baekhyun going, to convince him that it was okay. It’s okay if he’s ready to move on—it’s been years, Chanyeol wouldn’t hate Baekhyun for that, Chanyeol could never _ hate _ Baekhyun—but it’s also okay if he’s _ not _ ready.

And so Baekhyun continues to live alone. He lives in what was supposed to be _ their _ house, and he hopes. He knows it’s probably pointless, but he can’t help it. He hopes against everything and everyone that, though it’s been four years, Chanyeol’s alive, and he’ll come back.

It’s been 1,523 days, and still Baekhyun waits for the man who promised that he’d come home.


	2. Somewhere in the Western Hemisphere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: the only spanish i know is what little i remember from high school spanish nearly 4 years ago. thank you to my darling paola (twitter: myeonie_honey) for helping me with the translations. i tried to be as accurate as i could be with the accents and the punctuation, but there may still be some mistakes, for which i apologize. i hope it doesn't take away from your enjoyment of the story.
> 
> there will be more spanish in future chapters if this isn't a complete train wreck (haHA get it train wreck you won't now but you will hehe) okay enjoy!!

Chanyeol’s startled awake with a face full of ice cold water.

It’s been _ four years. _ Can’t these guys get original?

“Get up.”

Chanyeol rolls over with a deep groan onto his side, eyes still closed. One hand settles against his side that’s not on the floor and he presses against his ribs softly, letting out a slow breath as he does. Last night the bruising was bad. He has a feel that this morning it’s worse.

The man who woke him nudges him with his foot none too gently, almost pushing Chanyeol over further, and Chanyeol clenches his jaw as he hisses.

_ “Up.” _ A light is shone directly into his face and his hair is grabbed, head yanked up. Once his eyes open his head is dropped back to the ground and the men—two of them, he realizes now—step away from him. “We’re leaving.”

“Where?” Chanyeol croaks, whole body tight with pain. One hand comes to rest against the back of his head, between it and the concrete floor, cushioning it and providing little relief.

He doesn’t expect an answer. He never gets one, but still he asks. He wants to know what’s happening to him. What’s being done. What he’ll be forced to do next.

The men stay silent, as Chanyeol knew they would, standing by the door of the storeroom he’d been kept in overnight as he stood, stretched, and checked his ribs. Bruised. Possibly fractured, as far as he could tell with his careful poking around. Wonderful.

When he’s done they tie his hands behind him, like they usually do, and lead him out of the dark grey, metallic storeroom and into what looks like a concrete hallway.

Chanyeol’s led up two flights of stairs and then into a brighter hallway, and it’s there that he’s blindfolded and then led outside. He relishes in the moments of exposure to the natural light before he’s shoved through the door of a car, landing hard on his side against the floor. The men climb in after him and sit on the seat above him, and he’s unsure how far they drive before the door is open and he’s hauled back to his feet.

He listens, trying to figure out where they are. They’re still outside, that much he can tell, and he can hear some sort of motors in the atmosphere, though he can’t tell how close, or far, they are from him. There’s a screech of metal against metal, and then a loud, jarring horn sounds.

Chanyeol clenches his jaw. A _ train. _ They’re about to move a very far distance and he _ needs _ to figure out just where they are and he needs to do it _ soon. _

He’s led up a flight of small metallic stairs, nearly losing his footing once or twice were it not for the tight holds on his upper arms by his captors, and then the blindfold it ripped off. Chanyeol doesn’t even have time to adjust to the sudden change in light before the tie around his wrists is cut and he’s shoved down into the corner of, yes, a train car, and the door is shut.

He didn’t even get to see the sun.

Chanyeol looks around the car as he rubs his wrists. It’s a basic storage car—some large wooden crates filled with something Chanyeol’s sure is part of his original mission here are stacked in one corner but the car is, otherwise, empty.

Well, not quite.

He didn’t notice them at first, so used to being alone when he’s being moved, but two other males are in the car with him, sitting with their backs against the opposite wall. They look about his age, wearing dirty clothes with messy hair, and he quickly decides that they’re not a threat. 

They’re probably in the same position as Chanyeol himself.

The two men are in their own world, speaking quickly and quietly in a language Chanyeol doesn’t recognize, so he doesn’t bother with trying to make conversation.

Chanyeol throws his hair up—four years and no _ proper _ haircut, he’ll need to find a knife or scissors soon, it’s getting long even for his taste—with the single cord around his wrist and tries to think of a way to figure out where exactly he is.

Just then the whistle sounds and they start moving.

Chanyeol looks up. There’s a square cut out in the ceiling of the car, and an upraised sort of box above it, open. The four sides look like windows, casting the only light they have into the little train car. He can see just a sliver of blue from where he’s sitting, but so many days and nights spent in darkness have him selfish, so Chanyeol stands up and walks over to where he sees a ladder on the wall between him and the strangers, opposite the wall with the door.

It hurts, but Chanyeol’s used to biting his tongue and ignoring the pain, so he heaves himself up the ladder anyway, wanting to be closer to the sun. The sky. The outside.

Chanyeol pauses when he gets to the top rung, holding himself up and exhaling softly.

_ Sun. _ Blue sky. Green tree tops.

There _ is _ still a world out there.

He’s just not sure what _ kind _ of world. He glances at the pair sitting by the wall as he hops down, arms tired and chest hurting. Their conversation pauses and they look at him, the looks in their eyes effectively scaring him into leaving them alone.

Chanyeol sighs as he drops back into the corner he’d been deposited in earlier. Bravest officer in their force. Yeah, right.

More words are spoken in that mysterious language before they fall silent, and Chanyeol glanced up during the pause only to see both of their eyes locked on him. He raises an eyebrow.

One of the men speaks again, specifically _ to _ him this time, and Chanyeol shrugs and shakes his head, lost and hopefully letting them know he can’t understand them.

The two exchange a look and the other man catches Chanyeol’s attention, speaking up when he has it.

**“¿Est****á****s herido?”** _(Translation: Are you hurt?). __Spanish._ A language Chanyeol knows fairly well, having studied it in school and hearing it occasionally from a distance during his time as a captive.

**“Sí pero est****á**** bien. No importa. Estoy bien.”** _(Translation: Yes I am. It’s not important. I’m okay.)._ Chanyeol responds, wincing. He hasn’t spoken Spanish in so long, his accent horribly rusty. The other two don’t even look phased, and he figures it’s because he looks like a foreigner. They probably expected his accent to be shit. **“¿Tú quién eres?” **_(Translation: Who are you?)._

“Jacob.” The man points to himself first, and then to the man beside him. “Romeo. **¿Y t****ú?”** _(Translation: And you?)._

“Daniel,” Chanyeol says after a brief pause, figuring it’s better to be safe than to give too much away. Looks can be deceiving. **“¿Qué está pasando?”** _ (Translation: What’s happening?). _

**“Los estan moviendo.”**_ (Translation: We’re being moved.)._ Chanyeol resists the urge to roll his eyes._ No, really?_ **“¿Qué haces aquí?”**_ (Translation: What are you doing here?)._

**“No importa.”** _(Translation: Not important.)._ Chanyeol repeats. **“****¿Y t****ú?”** _(Translation: And you?)._

Jacob regards him. **“No importa.”**

They eye each other for a moment and then Chanyeol leans his head back against the wall. It seems they’ve reached a stalemate, neither wanting to reveal too much to the other, but they’ve built up no level of trust and Chanyeol still doesn’t have a single clue as to where they are. Wonderful.

Jacob and Romeo pick their conversation back up, switching back to the language Chanyeol doesn’t recognize. He lets his eyes shut, though he doesn’t sleep, simply taking advantage at the time he’s safe in the train car to relax for a while.

Eventually the two go quiet, and Chanyeol cracks an eye open to check on them. Romeo’s fallen asleep against Jacob’s shoulder, and Jacob is, once again, staring right at Chanyeol.

Chanyeol shifts with a soft groan, squaring his body up. **“****¿****Sí?”** _ (Translation: Yes?). _

Jacob simply shakes his head and looks up. Chanyeol mimics him and fixes his eyes on the faintest sliver of blue he can see from where he is, body too exhausted to even think about getting up to climb the ladder again. Every couple minutes the car darkens from an overhead cloud, but it never lasts long. Chanyeol never loses sight of the sky.

**“****¿Adónde estamos?”** _(Translation: Where are we?)_. Chanyeol asks four clouds into the silence.

**“****España.”** _ (Translation: Spain.). _ Jacob answers, eyes not leaving the ceiling. **“Los vamos a Granada.”** _ (Translation: We’re going to Granada.). _

Granada. _Spain._ Chanyeol sighs, swallowing. It’s something.

It’s not much, but it’s something.


	3. Seoul, South Korea, October 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE BEEN SO EXCITED TO POST THIS CHAPTER YOU HAVE NO IDEA AHHHHHH we're jumping right in this fic is gonna get BUSY FAST!!
> 
> as always thanks to the lovely paola for her help with the translations <33

October is the month Baekhyun dreads most out of the year—he seems to see so much more of Chanyeol everywhere that it completely exhausts him. He always looks worse during those long 31 days. He sleeps less. Gets more looks of pity from the office, gets more soft sighs and check-ins and “it’s okay, no rush. Have it to me tomorrow instead?” 

And, with each year that passes, Baekhyun gets more glances at the engagement ring he refuses to lose.

He gets more protection from Jongdae and Sehun, who stick close and act as a buffer between him and anyone who looks like they’re going to approach him for the wrong reason (he’s had young interns come up before and ask “is it true? Is it true that Detective Park disappeared without a trace? My supervisor said you knew him.”), and they keep him out of the house as much as they can.

And on October 23, they go out to dinner with him, inviting Kyungsoo and Jongin along with Jongdae’s own fiancé and fellow officer, Minseok, to keep him surrounded by _ life _ and love, and people who care about him before taking him home, at Baekhyun’s insistence.

“My offer still stands,” Jongdae reminds him as he walks Baekhyun to his front door, Minseok waiting in the car at the curb. “You can always come over tonight if you want to. Movie night and ice cream.”

“I’m fine, Jongdae.” Baekhyun offers him a small smile that he _ knows _ Jongdae can see right through and shakes the offer off. “I’m just gonna shower and then head right to bed, I promise. It’s okay.”

Jongdae pulls him into a tight hug and Baekhyun folds against him, squeezing him back. “Call me if you change your mind?”

“I will.” Baekhyun shoots him what he hopes is a more confident smile than he had earlier as he straightens up and digs his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘Dae.”

The house seems especially empty tonight, especially with how he was surrounded by his closest friends, his _ family_, not half an hour ago, and his footsteps seem to echo.

He gets tired suddenly, not mentally so, but _ physically _ , and he has to keep one hand on the wall as he toes out of his shoes and slips them in the closet, right next Chanyeol’s old favorite pair of Vans, and he wanders slowly down the hall towards their—no, _ his_—bedroom.

Baekhyun’s shower takes him nearly an hour as he washes up and stays in the warmth. If he closes his eyes and focuses he can almost hear Chanyeol’s voice over the water, jokingly asking to join him, but he doesn’t dwell on that for too long as he cuts the shower, wraps a towel around himself, and steps out.

He pauses for a split second in the bedroom, if that, before heading for Chanyeol’s dresser on the wall. Upon opening the top drawer Baekhyun’s nose is overwhelmed with Chanyeol’s familiar scent, warm and loving and safe, and it takes him a moment to get himself under control before he reaches in and pulls out one of the neatly-folded hoodies, shutting the drawer before more of the smell can escape.

Baekhyun pulls the sweatshirt on and drops his towel and then closes his eyes, hugging himself. Chanyeol’s arms are like a ghost around him—Baekhyun can smell him, and feel him in the familiarity of the sweatshirt, but he’s still _ just _ out of reach. It takes him three breaths to find the courage to open his eyes and see the empty bedroom before him.

Suddenly the bedroom seems so big and empty and terrifying, so Baekhyun quickly pulls on a pair of sweatpants and socks before heading back down the hall to the kitchen to make himself some tea.

Everything tonight is a memory, and as he stands at the counter waiting for the water to boil he looks at his tea of choice for the night in his hand and thinks about all the times Chanyeol would make this for him, able to _ see _ on his face when he got home how bad of a day he’d had, sitting him down on the couch and making tea and then sitting beside him to let him talk about everything. Or nothing. Whatever made him feel better, Chanyeol always seemed to know.

Baekhyun’s startled out of his mind as the tea kettle starts whistling, and he blinks the tears out of his eyes as he pours the hot water into a mug, adds the bag, and then he heads right back to the bedroom.

He wishes it would stop hurting. He wishes he could stop crying. He wishes he could stop shaking every time someone mentions Chanyeol’s name.

He can’t, though. Not yet.

To be honest, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to.

The closest Baekhyun comes to truly crying is when he opens his laptop and he sees the picture of him and Chanyeol that’s served as his screensaver for the past few years—a picture they’d taken the night they’d gotten engaged, all smiles and eyes glassy and pressing as close to each other as they physically could—but he’s able to click away and open Netflix before he gets too upset.

Maybe he won’t cry this year.

And with that, he settles in for the night, tight under the covers and tea mug hot between his hands and head propped against Chanyeol’s pillow.

===

Chanyeol’s chest rumbles under Baekhyun’s cheek as he laughs, arm warm around his shoulders.

“I’m serious.” Baekhyun defends himself through his own chuckles. “I was going to steal Sehun away next week to come shopping with me.”

“Well, he had already helped _ me.” _ Chanyeol cuts in triumphantly.

“Yes, and now we know he’s a snake.” Baekhyun’s words have no bite behind them. “I had no idea, really.”

“That was kind of the point, love.” Chanyeol murmurs, lips half-buried in Baekhyun’s hair with how close he’s holding him. His _ fiancé. _ “Proposals are supposed to be a surprise.”

Baekhyun smiles, remembering Chanyeol’s proposal to him not three hours ago. “I know.”

He looks down to where his left hand lays atop the blanket draped over both their lower bodies, sort of lost in the fabric mess the blanket makes in the way they’re all tangled together on the couch.

Chanyeol reaches down and digs his hand out, holding it up as they both look at the silver band fit snugly on his left ring finger. In the gaps between Baekhyun’s fingers sit Chanyeol’s fingers, a matching band on his own ring finger.

Baekhyun raises their hands and twists them so he can press a gentle kiss to the back of Chanyeol’s hand. Chanyeol hums softly and squeezes their hands as he returns the kiss to the side of Baekhyun’s head.

“I love you,” he whispers as Baekhyun gets more comfortable, hands still linked and now hidden back under the blanket, away from the mid-winter chill. Baekhyun turns his body so his legs are now completely in Chanyeol’s lap, shoulder tucked right up underneath his arm. Chanyeol’s grip on his mug of hot chocolate tightens to keep it from spilling as Baekhyun settles in.

“I love you too.” Baekhyun presses a soft kiss to the side of Chanyeol’s neck as he folds close, his own mug safe in his lap as the channel they’d had on as background noise plays the opening credits to another one of the Harry Potter movies, an annual holiday marathon that Chanyeol and Baekhyun hadn’t missed in years.

The Christmas tree twinkles in the corner as the beginning chords of Hedwig’s theme fills the room. The fire crackles on the sidewall, and outside it’s just started snowing again.

The small clock on the wall above the TV chimes as a new day begins, and Baekhyun smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Chanyeol.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

===

It takes Baekhyun a moment to catch his breath as his bedroom ceiling swims into focus, confused and disgruntled. He hears his phone buzzing on his nightstand but he still looks habitually to his left, eyeing the other side of the bed.

Empty.

He sighs. It seemed so real he can still practically feel Chanyeol’s arms around him, soft breaths hitting his neck with each exhale.

His phone is insistent on his nightstand, and Baekhyun wants to roll over and throw himself back into that memory from Christmas Eve, but it may be work so he props up on his elbow, clicks the lamp on, and answers with a groggy “hello?”

Whoever is on the other side of the phone’s breath catches in their throat and Baekhyun sits all the way up, body on alert.

“Who is this?” All he hears is a shaky breath through the line. “Hello?”

“You haven’t changed your number.” The voice is quiet, and rough and labored, but under all that, it’s incredibly relieved. “Four years, and you still have the same phone.”

There’s something vaguely familiar about the voice, too, but Baekhyun doesn’t dare hope. He doesn’t _ dare. _

He’s not going to be disappointed again.

“Baekhyun.” The voice breathes, and Baekhyun bites his bottom lip. It sounds _ just like _ him. “Baekhyun, it’s Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun sucks in a sharp breath. “Chanyeol’s dead.”

“No, no, I’m not. I’m right here.”

“What kind of fucking joke do you think you’re playing?”

“It’s me, I promise. Detective Park, Officer ID 3784. Birthday November 27th. Undercover mission ID 232416. I went missing in October, four years ago. My file’s been closed.”

Baekhyun stays silent, shaking. It _ can’t _ be.

“We were going to get married.” The voice softens. “December 7th.”

“This…” Baekhyun’s voice sounds weak and fragile, even to him. “This isn’t funny. Leave me alone. This is—this is _ cruel_, and I don’t know how you know about my situation but if you ever call me again I’m-”

“Mia.” The voice cuts him off. “You weren’t ready for kids, but if we ever adopted you wanted a girl. A baby girl. And you wanted to name her Mia, after the Princess Diaries.”

Baekhyun clenches his jaw. This isn’t possible. This isn’t happening—not tonight. He just misses Chanyeol, he’s making this whole conversation up in his head—

“And in college, when I told you I hadn’t seen the movie you broke up with me on the spot. You stayed broken up with me for three days, but you never acted like we were broken up unless people asked, and you always said ‘oh, we’re not together.’ And when people asked why, you told them, and they always said I deserved it.” The soft chuckle that Baekhyun hears brings back a million and one memories. “And then that Friday we watched it twice in a row.”

Baekhyun’s throat tightens and he trembles, eyes wide and fixed on a picture of him and Chanyeol on his nightstand.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s me.”

Baekhyun lets out a soft sob. “You’re dead.”

“It’s me, baby. It’s Chanyeol. I’m still here.”

“Ch-” Baekhyun clamps a hand over his mouth and shakes his head.

“Baekhyun.” Chanyeol’s own voice is unsteady. “Baekhyun, it’s me. I promise it’s me.”

“Chanyeol.” Chanyeol’s breath catches. “Chanyeol. _ Chanyeol.” _

“I’ve missed your voice, Baek. You have no idea how much.”

“I do.” Baekhyun swallows and tries to get his voice back. “I promise, I do.”

“I think about you every day.” Chanyeol breathes out. “Every fucking day, Baekhyun, by god.”

“Are you okay? Holy fuck, it’s been _ years. _ What happened? Where are you?” Baekhyun looks down at the engagement ring glinting in the soft lamplight. 

“I’m alright now. I’m talking to you, this is the most okay I’ve been in years,” is all Chanyeol says. Baekhyun hears a muffled voice through the speaker and his breath catches, panicking for a second before Chanyeol turns his head from the speaker and responds to the voice. He relaxes just a bit.

**“Sí, sí...lo sé. ¿Adónde están?” ** _ (Translation: Yes, yes, I know. Where are they?). _ That’s...Spanish, isn’t it? Where _ is_ he?

**“Solamente necesito unos cinco minutos.”** _ (Translation: I only need five more minutes.). _ Chanyeol adds after a couple of seconds, and he returns to the phone after a brief pause with a soft “Baek? Still with me?”

Baekhyun nods. “I’m here.”

“Okay, Baekhyun, listen to me. I need you to write something down for me so you have a record of them. I’m trying to put a plan together, but I need your help. Can you do that for me?” Chanyeol pauses for a second. “Baekhyun?”

“I—yes. Yeah, let me grab my pad—” Baekhyun holds the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he opens the nightstand drawer and fumbles to pull out a little notepad and a pen. “Okay, yeah.” He props the pad against his upraised leg and uncaps the pen. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“I’ll have to be quick, I’ve been here too long already.” There’s a bit of rustling as Baekhyun figures Chanyeol’s pulling out a piece of paper, and then he starts getting address fragments—streets, the occasional number, and different district names.

“Baek, hey, I have a name I need you to know about, but you have to promise not to freak out, okay? I don’t have time to explain everything right now.”

“Who is it?”

Chanyeol pauses and swallows, and Baekhyun has to prompt him before Chanyeol speaks up again.

“Lee Heojoon.”

“Lee Heoj…” Baekhyun’s hand pauses as the name registers in his mind. “Our _supervisor_, Lee Heojoon?”

“The very one.”

“Chanyeol, what the fuck?”

“You can’t believe a word he says about this situation, Baekhyun, you _ can’t. _ He’s been behind the scenes here this whole time, he’s one of the ones who took me in the first place. He took me because I figured out that he’s the one _ running _ this whole thing, and he didn’t want me running back and telling you and ruining everything.”

“I can’t…” _ believe this. _ “What the fuck? You mean this whole time, it’s been him?”

“Baekhyun, don’t do anything, okay?”

“Don’t do anything? How am I supposed to not do anything?” Baekhyun snaps. “I see him every _fucking_ day. I trusted him. _W_e trusted him. He was supposed to bring you home, and now you’re telling me he’s behind you missing for _years_, and I’m not supposed to do anything?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Baekhyun.” Something heavy drops on Chanyeol’s side of the phone and Chanyeol starts rushing. “There are bigger things at work here. Things you don’t know. Things _ I _ don’t even know, not yet. I need you to trust me on this. Please, Baek. _ Trust me.” _

“I don’t know if I can see him at work tomorrow. How am I supposed to look him in the eye and smile and pretend that everything’s okay when this is all his fault?”

“Please, baby, _ please.” _ Chanyeol’s voice gets soft. _ “Please. _ Don’t do anything. Wait until I know more. We have to be very careful with all of this—one wrong move and everything’s going to blow up. You can do research and help me gather info, but don’t do anything rash. Don’t tell anyone—_especially _ not Heojoon.”

Baekhyun takes a breath, looking at the name on the notepad.

This is the same man who pulled Baekhyun into his office and talked to him about Chanyeol going missing, the man who dispatched people to find him and the man who told him a year later that, though technically Chanyeol’s case file would be closed, they wouldn’t really stop looking for him. This is the man who gave a speech at their engagement party, smiling and congratulating them and telling stories from the early days of their relationship, having seen the whole thing develop through the department.

“I trusted him.” Is all Baekhyun says again.

“I know, baby, I know. I did too. But you can’t do anything. You can’t, or this’ll never work.”

“I’m just supposed to sit idly by while the man who’s personally responsible for keeping you from me wanders around the department?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. I need your word that you won’t do anything, do you understand? You can’t tell anyone, you can’t approach him, or threaten him or let him know in _ any way _ that you’ve talked to me or that you know what he’s done.” Chanyeol pauses. “Baekhyun, I need your word.”

Baekhyun sighs, defeated. “I won’t do anything.”

“Thank you, love.” Chanyeol lets out a soft sigh. “I have to go in just a minute.”

Baekhyun bites his lip, letting out a shaky breath. “You’ll call again, won’t you? I’ll hear from you again?”

“You will,” Chanyeol promises. “I’m not sure when, but I’ll call this same number. Keep this phone on you, and don’t try to call me.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Baekhyun sets the notepad on the nightstand and curls back under the comforter. His voice drops as he speaks again. “I miss you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol’s own voice gets tender and Baekhyun can practically see the soft look on his face as he responds with a quiet “I miss you too, Baekhyun. More than you know.”

“Where are you right now?”

Chanyeol sighs. “Granada. I’m in Spain.”

Baekhyun feels his heart drop and he whispers “that’s so far. _ You’re _ so far, oh god.”

“I’ll come back, Baek, I promise. I _ promise.” _ Chanyeol lets out a soft breath and leans against the wall the phone is attached to in the little room he’d found and managed to sneak in to. “What time is it for you?”

Baekhyun glances at the clock on the nightstand. “2:37—am, it’s still pitch black outside.” He pauses. 

“Oh fuck, I woke you, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay. More than okay. I’m…” Baekhyun smiles softly. “I’m really, so glad you called. I thought I’d never hear your voice again.”

Chanyeol lets out an amused breath. “I know what you mean, thought that myself for a while. This phone call is a lucky break, but I should have the schedule worked out. I think I’ll be able to call again.”

Baekhyun swallows. “What time is it for you?”

“Eight pm or so. The sun just went down,” Chanyeol responds, and Baekhyun sighs again. _ So far. _

“You’d better call again. I have so much to catch you up on.”

“How is everyone?” Chanyeol asks. “My parents, Yoora, the guys?”

“Yoora’s had their first kid.” Baekhyun hears Chanyeol’s breath catch. “You’re an uncle, ‘Yeol. She’s beautiful, and so smart. The restaurant is doing well, and your parents are great. They were over last week, funny enough.”

Chanyeol hums softly. “And the guys? Anything major?”

“Sehun’s moved to a new apartment, and he has a dog now. That thing’s spoiled rotten.” Chanyeol snorts. “Kyungsoo and Jongin finally got together, too.”

“I can’t believe I _ missed _ that!” Chanyeol says in dramatic despair, and Baekhyun laughs.

Chanyeol takes in a slow breath. “I missed that. Your laugh.”

Baekhyun bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t do it as often as I used to. I’m just...really happy to hear from you.” His eyes brighten. “Oh, I almost forgot. Jongdae’s engaged.”

Chanyeol gasps. _ “No way. _ To who?”

“It’s someone you know.” Baekhyun smiles. “Figure it out, and tell me your guess when you call me next?” His question sort of hangs in the air and he waits to see if Chanyeol will take the bait with it.

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, slightly amused. “Okay, yeah. Next time I’ll call you you’d _ better _ tell me.”

Baekhyun’s smile widens. “I will.”

There’s more speaking on the other side of the phone and it takes Chanyeol a second to respond to that. “Baekhyun, love I have to go.”

“Okay. Yes, go.” Baekhyun’s voice cracks and he swallows. “Be safe. Call me again.”

“I will, I promise I will.” Chanyeol pauses. “I…” he swallows. “I love you.”

Baekhyun’s eyes well with fresh tears. “I love _you_. So much. Call me when you can.”

“Go back to sleep, Baek.” Chanyeol’s voice is so soft and affectionate that Baekhyun can almost imagine he’s in bed with him, four inches to his left. “Sweet dreams.”

“Stay safe.” Baekhyun bids back, and then Chanyeol cuts the line.

Baekhyun lets out a shaky breath and cradles his phone to his chest, tears spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks. So much for not crying this year.

He _ knew it. _ He _ knew _ Chanyeol was still alive. And Chanyeol’s going to come back to him.

He falls back to sleep quickly, the memory of Chanyeol’s voice saying “I love you” fresh and warm at the forefront of his mind.

Chanyeol’s coming home.


	4. Seoul, South Korea,October 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note:: I have NOTHING against lucas, and i think him and baek are cute together. I included him as this particular character for the MEME, no hate here! no negativity!! I just thought given how the community was reacting to lucas and baek’s interactions that he would be perfect for this character i needed.
> 
> also this is a short chap i'm sorry i know i just finished midterm week it's been forever since i updated but i haven't forgotten about this story!! i think about it a lot i promise, and i have it all planned out!! the next chapter won't be as short as this one i promise!!

Jongdae and Sehun watch in silence as Baekhyun casually makes himself a mug of coffee, humming under his breath as he does.

“Does he seem..._ chipper _ to you?”

“Abnormally so.” Jongdae nods. It’s the 24th. Jongdae and Sehun had already prepared themselves to duck out of work and drive to Baekhyun’s to get him out of bed, yet his car was already in the lot by the time Jongdae and Minseok had pulled up. “Has he said anything to you?”

“I haven’t heard from him since dinner last night, and when he said hi this morning, no.” Sehun reclines further in his desk chair as he sips his coffee.

Jongdae hums. “Interesting.”

They both watch out of the corners of their eyes as Baekhyun laughs softly at something one of the younger officers tells him—neither of them missing the way Lucas eyes Baekhyun up and down before meeting his eyes again with a smile—and then avert them as Baekhyun passes them to head back to his own desk, engagement ring glinting in the light.

“He’s being disgustingly obvious,” Sehun grumbles lowly, eyes on Lucas still watching Baekhyun from the coffee pot. He’s never liked Lucas, ever since he got here the young officer has been flirting like _ hell _ with Baekhyun. Sehun hates it. Absolutely hates it.

And he’s _ very _ vocal about it.

All too used to Sehun’s ramblings Jongdae doesn’t respond, simply watching as Baekhyun turns his monitor on and then pauses as he waits for it to log him back in, lifting up the picture frame that houses a picture of him and Chanyeol. Baekhyun smiles, thumb brushing over Chanyeol’s smile before he sets it back down and gets back to work.

Sehun is still rambling about _ stupid newbies way out of their league I mean come on _, complaining and valiantly defending both Baekhyun’s honor and commitment to Chanyeol half an hour later as all the detectives are called in for their weekly overview meeting.

“Hey.” Baekhyun snags Jongdae’s shoulder before he can enter the room, pulling him aside. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.” Jongdae straightens up. “Is everything okay? Are _ you _ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s—” Baekhyun takes a second to collect his thoughts. “I’m fine. Just, later? Please? Come home with me after work. I’ll splurge for dinner, and wine if you want, but I really need to talk to you.”

“Sure, yeah, that works. I’ll let Minseok know.”

Baekhyun smiles, tension leaving his shoulders. “Wonderful. Thank you.”

“Don’t…” Baekhyun catches sight of something behind Jongdae, who sees all sorts of different emotions fly through his friend’s eyes in a second before they harden. “...mention it. Baek? Everything okay? You’re worrying me.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in there.” He ducks into the meeting room and Jongdae meets Sehun’s eyes from across the room and sees him looking just as lost as Jongdae feels.

That was...strange.

“Jongdae.” Lee Heojoon, their supervisor, claps Jongdae on the shoulder with a smile. “Shall we? The quicker we’re in the quicker we’re out.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” With a final shrug in Sehun’s direction, Jongdae follows Heojoon into the meeting room.

===

Baekhyun’s been wondering just how to breach the topic of Chanyeol’s phone call for the better part of an hour now. He has to tell him—not only is Jongdae both of their best friend, but Baekhyun needs someone else on his end that he can trust to help him work through everything Chanyeol’s going to give him—and, well, to keep him from going insane.

The call happened, he _ knows _ it did, it’s still in his phone logs that he checked that very morning the second he woke up, but he still needs to talk about it with someone.

And on levels of trust, Jongdae is somewhere in line with Chanyeol.

“Hey, Baek?” Baekhyun actually jumps, so caught in his own thought he didn’t hear Jongdae slip into the kitchen with him. “Hey, what did you want to talk about? You seem sort of tense, babe.”

“Yeah, um, yeah.” Baekhyun swallows and lets the fridge door fall shut. It’s not even cold in there anymore, he’d zoned out while he was looking for something to make. “Do you want to just order in? I didn’t realize how little food I have. Cooking for one, and all.” He lets out a nervous laugh as he turns to face Jongdae. “Sorry, I’m a shitty host.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jongdae lightens the mood with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Ramyun?”

Baekhyun smiles, calming. “Do the good place downtown.”

Jongdae whips out his phone to order, and a couple of minutes later they’re both on the couch and nursing glasses of wine.

“I, um,” Baekhyun’s voice shakes slightly as he breaks the silence. “I…”

Jongdae doesn’t say anything, simply sipping his wine and waiting for Baekhyun.

Baekhyun swallows, steadying himself. “I heard from Chanyeol last night.”

Jongdae freezes, eyebrows furrowing. He opens his mouth, closes it, and shakes his head as his eyebrows furrow deeper. “You heard from _ Chanyeol?” _

Baekhyun downs the rest of his glass of wine—which is most of it, mind you—and says “yeah” as he grabs at the bottle for a refill.

“Baek.” Jongdae sets his glass down and reaches over to grab Baekhyun’s arm, helping him set the bottle down without dropping it. His hands had started to shake. “Baek, honey, hey. I know it’s October, but Chanyeol’s gone, love.”

“He’s not.” Baekhyun shakes his head and shifts his body to face Jongdae. “It was Chanyeol. He called me last night.”

“I don’t…” Jongdae purses his lips, trying to figure out what he wants to say. “I don’t think he did, Baekhyun.” He squeezes Baekhyun’s hands. “Chanyeol’s dead.”

“He’s _ not.” _ Baekhyun insists. “He called me, he did. He knew his birthday, and his officer ID number, and the mission information from when he went missing.”

“All that is stuff that could be learned by opening his file,” Jongdae tells Baekhyun gently. “That could’ve been anyone. Some cruel prank.”

“You don’t _ understand.” _ Baekhyun pressed. “It was him. It was his voice, and the things he said, and the way he phrased his sentences. I swear on _ everything _ it was him.”

Jongdae sighs softly, trying to figure how to tell Baekhyun that there’s no way he heard from Chanyeol. “Baekhyun—”

“He knew about Mia,” Baekhyun says, squeezing Jongdae’s hands. “He knew about _ Mia.” _

“I’m—I’m sorry, who’s Mia?” Jongdae cocked his head, and Baekhyun smiled. 

_ “Exactly.” _ Baekhyun shifts closer to Jongdae on the couch. “No one else would’ve known that. It’s a conversation we had once, about kids. We want a girl first, and I wanted to name her Mia. He _ knew _ that. He told me the whole story, and about us binge-watching the Princess Diaries.”

Jongdae blinks, holding Baekhyun’s gaze. Baekhyun is so sure of himself, so confident, eyes so intense. 

Baekhyun wouldn’t do this. Baekhyun wouldn’t lie about something concerning Chanyeol, he would never.

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.” Baekhyun nods, eyes bright. “It was him, Jongdae, I swear. It was Chanyeol.”

“Oh my god.” Jongdae leans back on the couch, eyes wide. “Oh, my fucking _ god _—”

They both jump as the doorbell rings and Baekhyun hops up, grabbing his wallet from the table to get the door. Jongdae just sits there, in shock.

He doesn’t speak again until halfway through their meal. “Where has he been?”

“I’m not sure.” Baekhyun shakes his head after he swallows. “He’s in Spain right now, that’s all I know. And he’s...okay. It was a quick conversation the first time, he had to go before he got busted using a phone. He promised he’d call again, though. I’ll ask him more the next time he calls.”

“Fuck, man.” Jongdae shakes his head and takes another bite. “I really never thought we’d hear from him again.”

“Me neither, to be honest.” Baekhyun smiles, and Jongdae follows his gaze to a picture of him and Chanyeol on the wall beside the TV from their engagement shoot. “But he’s figuring shit out.”

“How is he gonna get home?” Jongdae asks, and Baekhyun turns his gaze back to him.

“That’s why I wanted to tell you. Chanyeol told me not to tell anyone about the call, but we need your help.”

“What with?”

Baekhyun lets out a breath. “Wait, first—you can’t tell anyone about this, okay? No one can know that Chanyeol’s alive. _ No one.” _

“What about Sehun?” Jongdae sets his bowl down, following Baekhyun’s example. “And Kyungsoo? Don’t they—”

“No, not even them. No one but us, it’s too dangerous.” Baekhyun’s voice drops. “There’s a lot of fucked up shit happening, we have to be careful. And we can’t spill until we know what’s going on, and we’re sure we can get Chanyeol home.”

Jongdae swallows and then nods. “Okay, yeah. I won’t tell, I promise.”

“Not even Minseok,” Baekhyun warns. _ “No one _ can know.”

Jongdae hesitates. He and Minseok tell each other everything, it’s part of what makes their relationship so strong. No lies, and no secrets. They learned that from Chanyeol and Baekhyun themselves.

“‘Dae?”

“Not even Minseok.” Jongdae nods. “My lips are sealed.” This is bigger than them.

“It’s Heojoon.”

Jongdae blinks once, twice, three times before he says anything. “Our supervisor?”

Baekhyun nods, dead serious. “Chanyeol’s seen him a lot over the years. He disappeared because he found out it was Heojoon, and Heojoon wanted to fucking keep him quiet.”

“Should’ve just killed him,” Jongdae muttered. “Everyone knows that as long as he’s alive he’s always going to find his way back to you.”

Baekhyun feels a surge of warmth in his chest and he smiles. “Will you help me? I’ve got some other stuff that Chanyeol told me written down that I need to research, and, well, two minds are better than one. Besides,” Baekhyun reaches out and takes Jongdae’s hand again, both of their hands warm from the hot bowls, “I trust you. We both do.”

Jongdae smiles. “Yeah. _ Fuck _ yeah, I’ll help you.” He squeezes Baekhyun’s hand and turns to look at the picture from earlier. “Let’s bring this fucker home.”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter/cc: emberloey


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